|Mac Matthias, 6’0″, 202 pounds|
|Mac’s stunning ass fills the foreground!|
|Happily for me,
Mac’s trunks never had a chance of covering those glutes!
|Even Mac’s side-glute makes my jaw drop!|
Both Mac and Exavier have a roguish, almost clownishness about them that take me back to very fond memories of over the top personalities climbing into the ring and filling up my imagination as I watched pro wrestling as a kid 30 years ago. They tell a story. They mug for the camera (oh, right, somebody had to be holding that camera that Mac delights so in monologuing for!). They both sell nearly equal parts of dangerous short cutter and every inch likable muscle jock. They make me laugh, gasp, and wince as the down and dirty action unfolds, and then… I catch sight of those gorgeous globes not nearly contained inside Mac’s trunks. From every angle, this is one astonishingly pleasing ass!
|This position seems hard to explain, but then my eyes rest
on Mac’s ass and…
Mac sweats, making the shiny sheen of his trunks blend in with the soaked muscles of his otherwise naked body. I know I’m repeating myself when I say it, but there are always new neverland readers who may not have heard my ode to the eroticism of a hunky, sweaty wrestler. Sweat brings such a tactile experience to the visual stimulation of watching a powerful body like Mac’s flex and strut and pound and preen. And speaking of tactilely arousing, if Mac’s ass cheeks weren’t made for squeezing long and deep, nothing in this world ever was!
|Even spread-eagled with a bulging crotch, it’s the base of his ass cheeks
making my heart pound harder.
There’s geography that Mac’s trunks fail to cover that I never saw from my fondest fantasy pro wrestlers from the 80’s. Between the two of them, Exavier and Mac show one another’s bulges off with a generosity of spirit that brings a tear to my eye. But even when Mac’s bulging crotch nearly pokes me in my tear-filled eye, it’s the beauty of even the barest bottom of those butt cheeks that holds me riveted in place.
|There’s no reason on God’s green earth that a man can’t
appreciate his own, hot ass, Mac!
Near the end of this fantastically entertaining match, Mac is dripping with sweat; his exquisitely inadequate trunks are wedged high up his hot round cheeks; he’s in sole possession of the mirror, and completely understandably, he nearly breaks his neck posing with his back to the mirror in order to take in the sight that I’ve been so entranced by for the past 20 minutes. “Why can’t a man appreciate his own butt? That’s all I can say,” Mac mutters to himself, proving there is (and should be) no impediment to his appreciating such a fine, fine specimen of manly beauty. Now, I’m feeling a need to rediscover Mac’s back catalog to stare at his backside for many more matches!